All Roads Lead To: The Prequel
by Krolenat
Summary: Two years before the events of 'All Roads Lead To': Mary escaped with baby Sammy before Azazel's visit, leaving John and Dean behind. The brothers grew up in different lives, but are still upholding the family business of saving people and hunting things. In Dean's case, human criminals. That is until a string of murders bring all of them back together.
1. Chapter 1

"What the hell am I looking at?" Dean retracted his gloved hand from the bloody mess which was all that was left of the businessman.

It looked like the leftover bits of the turkey at the end of their thanksgiving dinner last night. If Dean had not been doing this for as long as he has, that thanksgiving meal would have made a reappearance.

"Looks like some kind of animal attack," his partner, Max, said.

"A hyena who knew how to unlock the front door?" Dean scoffed, "Hey you, bag these ribs up and bring it back to the lab. We could probably get something out of these bite marks on the bones."

"Detective Winchester! There's a neighbour here who saw a guy entering the house last night. You might want to talk to him," a uniformed officer poked his head into the room.

"Yeah, coming," Dean clapped a hand on Max's shoulder, "you should go to animal control and see if they know anything."

"Okay, meet you back at the station later."

* * *

"Heya Bobby."

"Hey Sam, how's the vampire nest in Montana?"

Sam knew that the older hunter was not calling to make sure that they did their job. Bobby was calling to make sure that they were both okay.

"Yeah, yeah. We cleaned that up yesterday and we're both fine. Got another job for us?"

"Actually I do, I've got a chomped-up body in Oregon."

"Sure, we'll take care of it. Bye Bobby," Sam hung up and started up his laptop.

Mary emerged from the motel bathroom, hair still dripping wet from the shower.

"Was that Bobby?"

"Yeah, there's a case in Oregon he wanted us to check out," Sam scrolled through the newspapers and the police reports, "Oh no."

"What?" Mary looked up from packing both their duffel bags.

Sam turned his laptop around so that his mom could read the report by the police. This was so not good. Maybe he should ask Bobby to put another hunter on this.

"I don't see what the problem is, Sammy," Mary frowned.

"Have a look at the cop who signed the report off, mom," Sam sighed.

"Oh no."

* * *

Dean and Max were driving back to the station after visiting the second crime scene where another body in similar condition was found. All they had at the moment were questions and no answers, and that was starting to get on Dean's nerves.

"Well, maybe...the killer brought a wolf or something with him, and then let it loose on the vics..." Max guessed.

"The witness said nothing about seeing our mystery guy with a wolf on a leash," Dean sighed, "and can you not eat that in the car? I swear if you get gravy on my baby's upholstery I'm gonna kill you with a wolf myself."

"Geez, fine. I swear you have an unhealthy obsession with-"

Dean turned the knob of the radio, filling the impala's interior with classic rock at an uncomfortably loud level.

By the time they were back at the station, Max was sure he had lost his hearing in both of his ears. They made their way down to the medical examiner's lab, where Emily was expecting them.

"What've you got for us, Em?" Dean smiled when he saw the beautiful brunette at work over another dead body.

The ME stopped her cutting and digging and held out a file for them, "The teeth marks on the ribs of the first victim? They are human."

"Oh c'mon, really?!" Max scrunched his nose.

"So, what? Now we've got a cannibalistic serial killer on the loose?" Dean asked.

"Your job, pretty boy. Not mine. I'm only here to take things apart and find out what made them not tick anymore."

"Great, the news are going to love this," Dean muttered to himself as they walked up to their workstations.

They spent the next few hours trying to find out everything they could about the two dead men. A dozen cups of coffee later and they were ready to call it a day.

"So what's the connection between the two vics?" Max rubbed his tired eyes.

"That's the thing..there's absolutely-"

* * *

"No connection between Edward Gorden, the successful businessman, and Mike Daniels, the high school dropout," Sam relayed the results of his research as Mary drove them to Oregon.

Both of them agreed that they were going to take the case despite the risk of Dean recognising his mother and his brother. Mary had to make sure that Dean was safe, from whatever this was.

"What's our cover mom? I mean what if he sees us..."

"Dean's probably not going to know who you are Sammy," Mary assured him.

She did not miss the fleeting look of sadness on Sam's face when she said that.

They were excited to see Dean and John again. The last time Mary had saw his boys was five years ago, when Dean had graduated from the police academy. Mary and Sam watched from a distance, as a proud John congratulated a sharply dressed Dean who just graduated as the top of his cohort.

"Mom?" Sam brought her out of her reminiscing, "light's green."

"Right," Mary stepped on the gas, "you go talk to Dean. I'll meet you back at the motel tonight."

"Okay, what are you going to do?"

"I'll go check out the crime scenes."

"And?"

"And what?" Mary asked.

"I know you looked up the address for the auto shop dad is working in," Sam raised his eyebrows.

"So?" She pulled the car up outside the entrance to the police department.

"So...have fun visiting the 'crime scenes'. Seeya later mom," Sam made air quotes with his fingers before he climbed out of the car.

What wouldn't she give for the four of them to be a family again.

* * *

"I'm looking for the detective in charge of the cannibal case," Sam flashed his FBI badge at the uniform at the reception.

"Detective Winchester," The cop pointed Sam towards the direction of Dean's office.

Sam thanked him and trudged up the stairs. He couldn't stop wiping his sweaty palms against the rough fabric of his black pants since his hands wouldn't stop sweating.

"Just another job. Stay cool, Sam," he muttered to himself as he neared Dean's office.

He found his brother easily enough when he stepped into the room full of working detectives. Dean looked stressed, staring intently at his computer screen. He was so absorbed in his work that he hadn't notice Sam walking towards him.

Sam rehearsed what he was going to say to his brother in his head one more time before he cleared his throat loudly.

"What?" Dean barely glanced at him before his eyes went back to the computer.

"I'm Agent Allen from the FBI, and I'm looking into the case with the two mutilated bodies. I was told you're in charge of this investigation," Sam patted himself on the back mentally as he got all that out despite his wildly-beating heart.

Dean gave an annoyed sigh before he stopped what he was working on and looked right at Sam.

Sam's heart skipped a beat when he found Dean studying him. What if he knew who Sam was?

"Aren't you a little too young to be FBI?"

"Uh...umm..." Sam was thrown off for a second, "I...get that a lot. Thanks."

* * *

Dean snorted at the skyscraper of a man in front of his desk. He was dreading the imminent visit from one of them the minute they found the second body.

Even though Dean knew that he had reached a dead end with the investigation and the new pair of eyes might come in useful, he was still not happy about working with the feds again. All the FBI did were to stroll into town after they had done all the tedious legwork, order them around, and then leave town with all the credits for nabbing the bad guys.

That all being said, the man in front of him may not be too bad after all. Something about the guy seemed different from all the other douchebag agents.

"Dean Winchester," he held out his hand.

"Sam Allen," Sam made sure to dry his hands once more before shaking Dean's hand.

"So...agent, what can I do for you?"

"What have you got so far? Any suspects?"

"I've been working this case with Max, and we've found nothing concrete," Dean pulled a chair towards his table and motioned for the agent to sit.

* * *

Once he was seated next to Dean, Sam could see the photographs of Dean and their dad on the table. There was also a photograph of the four of them, back when Sam was still a newborn.

"Hey, you listening to me?"

"Sorry, what?"

"As I was saying, agent, we have an eyewitness from the first case. It was too dark for him to make out the features of the intruder. We also sent the teeth imprints on the ribs for analysis but so far, nada."

"Sam, you can call me Sam."

"Funny, that was the name of my brother. Who would have been around your age by now."

"Was? What happened to him?" Sam clammed his mouth shut when Dean shot him a look, "Sorry."

Did Dean think that Mary and him were dead?

"Anyway, we uh-" Dean broke off when his phone rang.

Sam went back to looking at the photographs as Dean answered his phone.

"Son of a bitch..." Dean rubbed his face tiredly, "Hey. We've got ourselves another body. You coming?"

"Of course," Sam turned his attention back to his brother.

* * *

Dean drove them to the pier in his impala while Sam wrung his hands together in the passenger seat. There was a millions things he wanted to say, questions he wanted to ask his brother. Like how was their dad, how was their normal apple pie lives, and did he ever missed mom or Sam. But now, Sam was just another FBI agent to Dean, an FBI agent whom Dean was forced to work with, who had no business in asking about Dean's life. Sam hadn't missed the look of annoyance on Dean's face when he realised that they had to work together.

"You've got something on your mind, Sam?"

"What do you mean?" Sam feigned ignorance.

"Nah, you just look like a guy who's going to pop the big question to his girlfriend at dinner. What's up?"

"Nothing. Just thinking about some stuff. Family stuff," which was the truth.

"Hmm," Dean nodded, "we're here."

* * *

"Max," Dean strode over to his partner with Sam at his heels, "This is Sam Allen from the bureau, he'll be working with us on the case."

Dean watched as Max narrowed his gaze at the newcomer.

See, none of them liked the feds.

"Right, what've we got?" Dean asked.

"Andrew Mills. The wife found the body in the garage this morning, although she is clearly traumatised and not making much sense."

"What did she say?"

"Time of death was estimated to be around last night, but Mrs Mills over there swore that she was in bed with her husband all night, until he left the house for work at 7."

"So the evil twin brother ate her husband, left the scraps in the garage, and went to bed with her," Dean clarified, "is that what we are going with?"

Max shrugged and gave Dean a 'I-am-as-confused-as-you-are' look.

"Excuse me, guys. I'm going over to interview the wife," Sam spoke up suddenly, looking as though all of these were making perfect sense to him.

Huh. They must have seen a lot of crazy cases like this at the FBI.

"Seriously man...this has to be the most bizarre case I have ever worked on. I am actually missing bodies with gunshot wounds from angry ex-wives right now," Dean massaged his aching temples.

They had been working non-stop since the first body was found two days ago, and all they got was an angry captain whose face turned a shade redder every time Dean showed up in his office empty handed. Dean understood the urgency in finding the murderer, since the civilians were starting to get uneasy about the human-eating killer running loose in the city. All these stress was giving him a migraine.

* * *

The man with Andrew Mills' face hid behind the bush as he watched the police work.

He should have killed the woman when he had the chance. Now, the hunter was going to be on his ass.

Ever since he woke up from his grave with a hunger for human flesh, he had been eating and becoming the men who were blessed with looks which allowed them to get whatever girl they wanted, and then sleeping with said girls all over town. And since he wasn't as lucky with his genetic lottery when he was still alive, he'd be damned if he didn't enjoy his afterlife like he was doing now.

He was going to have to skip town tonight, before the hunter found him...on second thoughts...maybe tomorrow night. That was a face he was willing to risk one more night for...

The ghoul grinned widely as his gaze followed the tall, handsome detective walking towards a black muscle car.


	2. Chapter 2

"Ty, less talking on the phone and more working! I want the car running by tomorrow morning. And remember to lock up after you leave," John scolded their new part-timer at the auto shop.

He was going to fire the boy's ass if he caught him slacking off again. John picked up his toolbox from the ground and he was walking towards his truck when he saw...

It can't be.

A bus zoomed past in front of him and just like that, she was gone.

He must have been imagining things, because there was just no way...No way.

* * *

Crap.

Mary ducked behind a tree when her eyes met with John's. She could almost hear Bobby's gruff voice in her head: "What the hell were you thinking, Mary?"

But she could not resist coming to catch a glimpse of John. There was a part of her which wanted to sprint across the road and wrap him in her arms, but the rational part of her knew that keeping away was for the best.

Azazel still didn't know where John and Dean were, thanks to the hex bags Mary had another hunter put in their house. She wasn't about to disrupt the status quo and put the two of them in danger by revealing herself. Besides, she was a hunter, and hunters tend to leave truckloads of enemies at their tails who would be more than happy to get their hands on her family. Most importantly though, John and Dean was living the life which she wanted for them: a normal, nightmare-free life. The life which Sam and her would never be able to have until Azazel is dead.

Mary only came out of her hiding place after John started to drive off in his truck. She probably shouldn't be following him back home, but that was exactly what she did.

* * *

John killed the engine of his truck but remained in the driver's seat. On his way home, all he could think about was Mary, the only woman he has ever loved in his life, and Sam, the son he never got to know.

It had been at least twenty years since his wife and son had gone missing, and he had long made peace with the fact that they were never coming back. But that didn't mean that he has stopped wondering about what happened.

A loud bang on his window snapped him out of his musing.

"Dad? What are you doing in the truck?"

It was Dean.

"You're back early? I saw the news about the cannibal case you're working on, thought you'll have tons of work to do," John hopped out of his vehicle and followed Dean towards the house.

"Yeah well it's kinda hard to work when there is nothing to work on. This case is driving me nuts," Dean sighed, "you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You tell me, you were the one I found sitting in the driveway."

His boy was like Mary in a way, always so attuned to the people around them.

"Just thinking about some stuff," John waved his son off.

He was rewarded with a weird look from Dean, "Huh, seems like everyone's doing that these days."

"What?"

"Nothing. I'm going to go fix us some dinner. Steak? I think we've run out of potatoes though..." Dean walked off in the direction of the kitchen while mumbling to himself.

John might have lost Mary and Sam, but he still had Dean and for that he was thankful. Fate had not been that cruel to him after all. If not for Dean, he would have put a bullet through his brain long ago.

* * *

In her car across the street, Mary watched as her two boys went into their home. She assured herself that they were going to be safe here, nothing was going to get them, but there was this nagging feeling in her gut which told her otherwise. Call it maternal instinct.

The phone in her pocket started to vibrate. Must be Sam.

"Sammy? How did it go? How's Dean?"

"I thought you'd know how he is, seeing that you just saw him seconds ago," Sam's voice was no longer coming from the phone as he opened the door and got into the passenger seat.

"Sam," she admonished.

"What?" Sam held his hands up in surrender, "Okay, okay."

"What did you find out?"

"It's a ghoul. A ghoul who has cultivated a taste for living flesh, like the one in Jefferson city. What I can't figure out is why these victims. They don't know each other, they don't frequent the same hang-outs...it's almost like it's random. I know, I know, you're going to say that there's no such thing as random coincidences," Sam held out the case files for Mary.

"For one, all of them are men," Mary studied the photographs of the deceased, "and pretty good-looking men I might add."

"Really, mom?" Sam laughed.

"Hey, I'm just saying," Mary defended.

"Hang on a minute," Sam turned serious, "the ghoul slept with the wife of the third victim after killing her husband."

"But the first two victims were single men," Mary was unsure where Sam was going with this.

"No...but what if the ghoul was trying to get laid while enjoying the free human buffet?" Sam suggested.

If Sam was right, its next target could be anyone in the city. But they were not going to be able to shrug off their bad luck all of a sudden; somehow Mary just knew that the ghoul was going to go after Dean next. His face was plastered all over the news lately, what better identity to take on than a heroic detective if it wanted to score a home run with the ladies.

"So what do you think?" Sam asked.

"I think we'd better stay here and watch over the house tonight."

* * *

"Ughhhhh!" John and Dean exclaimed collectively when the quarterback lost his grip on the football.

"Damn he sucked," John said as the game ended and he switched off the TV.

Dean glanced at his watch, it was one in the morning already? He hadn't planned on staying up so late when he had to be at the station early tomorrow. But then again it was football, and watching the game with his dad had taken his mind off the pain-in-the-ass case he was on for a few hours. Dean started to clear the table of their empty chip bags and beer cans.

"Don't worry about that, I can the trash out later, Dean. You go to bed."

"Nah it's fine, I'll do it," Dean yawned as he chucked the cans into the black bag.

"Alright, goodnight Dean," John called out as he went up the stairs to his bedroom.

"Night dad."

He slipped on his jacket before stepping outside. The weather was turning cooler, like it always did after Thanksgiving, and it had started raining.

"Ugh," Dean half-jogged towards the bins, all he could think about was his soft, warm bed.

He stopped when he heard a noise in the alleyway, but between the darkness and the rain he could hardly make anything out.

"Hello?"

The lack of sleep must be catching up with him. Or it was probably just Mrs White's cat.

Oh well, time for bed.

There was someone behind him.

Dean turned around just in time for a man to pounce onto him, pinning him against the wall. Dean kneed and punched the man but he wouldn't budge. The guy was surprisingly strong for his size.

"Mmm...don't you look delicious," the man landed a few punches of his own on Dean's head.

What the hell was this man on?

"Get off me, you psycho," Dean managed to jab his attacker in the neck, forcing him to let go of Dean.

The moment he was free, Dean kicked the man in his abdomen and started running towards the house.

His gun. His gun. His gun. Damn, the next time he brings out the trash, he was so bringing his gun along.

The hits he took to his head made running barefooted on wet grass harder than it already was. Dean was steps away from the house when he slipped and his forehead connected with the first few steps of the front porch with a resounding crack.

The crazy man caught up with him in a heartbeat. He was turned onto his back roughly before the man lifted his ankle and started dragging him off to somewhere...

"Geh...roff," Dean struggled against the man's grip but his limbs were not listening to his brain at the moment.

And he couldn't see anything! Why couldn't he...oh wait, his eyes weren't opened.

Why?

Why was he on the ground?

And why was he soaked?

How?

Where...

"Nngh...wahhe...fuhh..."

* * *

"You're joking?!" Sam laughed quietly as he glanced at his sleeping mother in the driver's seat.

"I'm not! I'm serious Sam Winchester!" the shrill voice from the phone got louder.

"Okay...Shh...," Sam covered the speaker of the phone and made sure that Mary was not awaken, "Man, Ellen's going to kick your ass if she finds out, Jo!"

"Then I'll make sure that doesn't happen," Jo replied rather smugly.

"Yeah yeah, don't say I didn't warn you...hold on a sec," Sam squinted through the rain when the corner of his eye caught a flurry of activity in front of the house.

"Gotta go, Jo!" Sam exchanged his phone for the machete and shotgun.

"Mom! Mom!" Sam shook his sleeping mother.

Without waiting to see if his mom was following, Sam bolted out of the warmth of the car into the chilly downpour.

Where were they?

As Sam rounded the corner into the unlit alleyway, it was clear that the ghoul was trying to make a happy meal out of his unconscious brother.

"Hey!" Sam raised his shotgun.

Startled, the ghoul hauled Dean up by the neck. The other held a dagger poised above his heart.

"One more step and he's dead meat," the ghoul warned while backing away from Sam slowly, "drop the gun."

* * *

The hunter 's aim remained true to his head.

How the hell did the hunter find him? Damn it. He should have left town tonight.

"I said drop the gun," he ordered, simultaneously digging the dagger into the cop's chest, earning a soft groan from the man.

The scent of fresh human blood filled his nostrils immediately. He could almost imagine the taste of the sweet, thick liquid coating his tongue and sliding down his throat. Not to mention the fresh and supple flesh he had grown to love.

"Alright! Alright!" the hunter raised both of his hands in surrender, shotgun included.

"You failed English in school, boy? I said drop it, not raise it up!" he snarled and pushed the dagger in a little deeper.

"No, stop! Dropping, dropping."

"Kick it over, and don't try anything."

The hunter did as he was told, with his hands still in the air.

Good.

He took a few steps back while keeping his sight on the hunter, daring him to follow.

Time to bolt.

With a flick of his wrist, he threw the dagger towards the hunter, together with the dead weight on his other arm.

Spinning around and ready to bolt, he found himself face-to-face with the business end of another shotgun.

Well, shit.

* * *

"That'll teach you not to mess with my boys."

Mary pulled the trigger without hesitation, the ghoul's head exploded and was dead before it hit the ground. With a swing of her machete, she chopped its head off for good measure. They would have to burn the body later, but now she had more important things to worry about.

"Sam! You okay?" she stepped over the dead ghoul towards Sam, who was on the ground with Dean on top of him.

"He...missed," Sam groaned as he rolled his brother off him carefully.

"Dean? Dean," Mary tapped his cheek lightly.

He was still out, and the wound on his chest was still bleeding sluggishly. Sam shrugged off his jacket and used it to put pressure on it.

Mary's brain was still not processing the fact that she was really by Dean's side. The last time she had been, he was only four years old.

"Mom."

It was weird how he felt like a stranger to her but at the same time there was an intimate sense of familiarity.

"Mom!"

"What is it Sammy?"

"You should probably go before..."

Before Dean or John sees her.

Mary had not noticed the sirens gaining volume in the background. Someone must have heard the shotgun and called the police.

Mary stood up from Dean's side reluctantly. When would she have the chance to see her son again?

"I'll take care of the body," Mary said as she started dragging the body deeper into the darkness.

"We're here!" Sam called out into the rain.

Mary hid behind the house as she watched the police and paramedics approach her sons.

"Angels are watching over you, Dean."


	3. Chapter 3

Sam checked his watch for the tenth time since he has arrived at the hospital.

Has it only been twenty minutes? Felt more like two hours.

Dean had come to briefly while they were on the way to the hospital, looked over at Sam with a stupid grin and said, "I think I found our guy, Sammy."

That was right before he covered the poor paramedic in his semi-digested dinner and beer.

Dean was going to be fine, and the ghoul was taken care of. So why was Sam still sitting in that hard plastic chair at 3 in the morning? He should be on his way back to the motel, back to mom, and the both of them could pack up and leave. Again.

But maybe he didn't want to go yet because...

The double doors opened, letting in chilly autumn air and one worried John Winchester.

John's eyes roamed across the waiting area of the A&E, his gaze moving pass Sam like all the other strangers in the room. Not that Sam expected anything more, but it still hurt that his father did not know who he was.

John found what he was looking for and walked up to the receptionist, "I'm looking for Dean Winchester, I'm his father."

"The doctor will be out to talk to you in a sec, take a seat," the receptionist gestured to the empty seats beside Sam.

John thanked the lady and joined Sam at the chairs, leaving two seats between them.

Should he introduce himself to his father? Should he say something? Or he could just go back to the motel now, so that he doesn't mess anything up.

"Can I help you with something, son?"

Sam jumped when he realised that John was looking right at him.

Oh crap had he been staring at his father all this while? And did John just call him...

"Umm sorry," Sam tore his eyes away from the older man, "It's just...I'm waiting for Dean too."

"Oh?" John was waiting for Sam to elaborate.

"Sorry, I should have introduced myself," Sam shook his head, "I'm uh, I'm Sam Allen from the FBI, I'm working with Dean on a case."

Smooth, Sam. Real smooth.

"Agent Allen! Max told me that you were the one who saved my son," John extended his hand, "Thank you."

"Yeah...nah, it's nothing."

"So where is this killer now? I hope you guys have him in custody?"

The ghoul was probably reduced to a pile of smouldering ashes in the ground by now.

"He's never going to be hurting anyone ever again," Sam answered vaguely.

"Good...that's uhh that's good."

His father was clearly distracted by the reason they were both waiting here at the moment: Dean.

Sam should really get going, before Max and other cops show up at the hospital. But he was already here, he could probably stay for another few minutes to make sure Dean was really alright.

"Mr Winchester?"

Both man looked up to the doctor standing in front of John.

"Yes, how's my son?"

"Dean's going to be fine. He was brought into the department displaying symptoms of a severe concussion. His scans have come back normal so we're not expecting any complications from that. Although we're going to admit him for the night due to the prolonged loss of consciousness, but I'm sure it's nothing more than just exhaustion," the doctor gave a reassuring smile.

"And we've also stitched up the wound on his chest, it wasn't too deep so there is nothing to worry about. Once he gets settled in his room someone will come and take you up to the wards."

"That's good to hear, thanks doc," John let out a breath of relief.

Sam wondered if his father had to deal with situations like this all the time, since being a cop is not exactly a risk-free job. At least when Sam was hunting with mom, they were always together.

Right, Dean was fine. And that was Sam's cue, before...

"Agent Allen!"

"Hey...Max," Sam returned the greeting.

"Would you excuse us, Mr Winchester," Max led Sam away from John.

"My guys are telling me that they couldn't find anything at the house. Sure there was blood but no body. You said you shot the killer?" Max asked.

"Yeah I did and he went down. You know what...it was dark and raining I could have missed."

"You didn't check?! You're telling me the cannibalistic serial killer is still on the loose?" Max's face was one of absolute horror.

"No...I mean, he couldn't have gone too far," Sam should really stop talking now.

"Right right right. Okay, that's...I'm going to call for a search around the area, and we'll find him," Max reassured himself, "And you. I'll need you to come down with the station with me for an official statement."

"Look, can we do this in the morning? I'll be at the station first thing, I have to..." Sam pointed to the direction of John.

"Of course. Is Dean okay?"

"Yeah, he's going to be fine. Although they are going to keep him here for the night," Sam relayed what the doctor had said.

"I should really go get the search party started, see you tomorrow Agent Allen," Max excused himself to go speak with John.

Sam quietly slipped out of the hospital while the two men were still talking.

He spared one last glance at the hospital before flagging down one of the cabs.

Goodbye Dean. Goodbye Dad.

* * *

"D'd?" Dean recognized the sounds of his dad channel surfing beside him before he even opened his eyes.

"Dean? Bout time you woke up," his father sounded exhausted.

"Timezit?"

The first thing he saw when he managed to lift his heavy lids was the blurry figure of his father sitting next to his bed.

"Noon."

"Huh," Dean rubbed at his bleary eyes.

His father gave a loud sigh before laying back into the chair, "This is the fifth time this year, son. You gotta stop scaring your old man like that."

"Swear this is not my fault dad."

He didn't even...all he did was take out the stupid trash. Speaking of...

"What happened?" Dean sat up slowly, glad that the room stayed still. The last time he had a concussion, he couldn't see straight for four days.

"The killer you were trying to catch paid you a visit at home, that's what happened," his father said tersely, "To think I was just upstairs in the house..."

"You couldn't have known dad."

"I didn't even wake up when the agent shot the killer," John ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

"Dad c'mon, look I'm fine," Dean sighed, "Sam was there? How? Is the killer dead?"

"I don't know much, I didn't ask. I was too busy with something else...oh right, worrying 'bout you."

Dean didn't know that John possessed that much snark in him.

"So can I get out of here now? I gotta go see Max," Dean laid his head in his hands.

He had forgotten how much he hated the headaches which came with concussions.

"Yeah, I'll go get somebody."

* * *

Max took a sip of his already-cold coffee as he waited for the person on the other end of the line to get back to him.

"Hello?"

"Yes, I'm still here," he answered.

"I can't find any 'Sam Allen' in the bureau's directory."

"Are you sure?" Max frowned, "That can't be."

"I've looked through the whole personnel database, detective. Didn't find anyone named Sam Allen," the lady replied.

"Okay, thanks," Max hung up.

The agent had not shown up at the station all morning, and Max had called up the FBI hoping to get agent Allen's contact details. Maybe Dean would know something, he seemed to have gotten along quite well with the fed.

Speaking of the devil...

"Dean! What the hell are you doing here?" Max chastised.

"I heard that we have quite a mess to clean up, I'm here to help," Dean clapped a hand onto Max's shoulder before sinking into an empty chair with a wince.

Max was glad that his partner was here to help him and at the same time worried that Dean was going to overwork himself. Dean looked a little better than when Max had visited him last night, but he was still two shades too pale.

"We do, but you should be resting. He got you in the head pretty good," he argued half-heartedly, knowing that he was never going to win.

"I've got a hard skull. So, what are we looking at now? Where's Sam?"

"Allen was supposed to be here hours ago, he never showed, and apparently he's not a fed either," Max pinched the bridge of his nose.

"What'd you mean?"

"He's not in the FBI's database, or any database. It's like he doesn't exist."

Max was starting to wonder if the guy was in cahoots with the serial killer. Nobody knew who the killer was, that Sam guy was coincidentally at the scene when Dean was attacked, and claimed that he had shot the killer, whose body was nowhere to be found.

"That's not possible..."

"What do you remember?" Max reckoned that Dean was their biggest hope right now.

"Not much. I remember taking out the trash, it was really dark. And then there was someone behind me. After that, nothing. I didn't even know Sam was there," Dean recounted.

"Do you remember anything about the killer? What'd he look like?"

"Nothing man, sorry," Dean held up a hand to his head.

"You sure you're alright?"

Dean dropped his hand, "Yeah, let's get to work. So, the only person who's seen the killer is Sam. We need to find him."

"If his name is even Sam," Max grumbled, "how are we supposed to find the guy?"

"Sarah! Come over here, we need you," Dean shouted to their sketch artist at the other side of the room.

"Guess that's a start," Max smiled as he watched the two of them start on their easy banter.

Dean never ceased to amaze him with his thought processes. His partner was a natural, and Max would never be half as good as him. Not to mention his bravery and unwavering loyalty to his colleagues. Dean had saved Max's life more than he could count, and most of the time it was by putting his own life on the line.

Whatever did he do to be blessed with such an amazing partner and friend.

* * *

They had been working for all of 15 minutes before the phone rang.

"I'll get that," Dean got up and picked up the plastic receiver, "Winchester speaking."

"Hi, it's Anderson from the arson department. A house fire downtown was called in this morning, they've just managed to put the flames out and we think that this might be linked to the case you're working on."

"What is it?"

"In the stolen car parked at the house, we found wallets belonging to Gorden, Daniel, and Mills in the glove compartment. We ran the names through the system, they were the vics in your murder case?"

"Yes they were. What about the house? Did you find anything?"

"A body in the kitchen, burnt beyond recognition. Weird though, the head was severed. According to the neighbours, the owners have migrated overseas, and the house had been empty for weeks. You think this might be your killer?"

"I don't know...give me the location, I'm coming down with my partner now," Dean gestured for Max to leave as he wrote the address down.

"What happened?" Max stood up.

"Man, did I tell you how freaking bizarre this case is," Dean sighed.

* * *

Sam finished his last bite of his caesar salad, "Pretty good thinking, mom."

"Yeah well, we can't have your brother chasing a ghost when he could be doing his job, can we? Besides, I would hate to see his perfect record of having 100% solve rate for his cases be broken," Mary smiled.

Mary had been following Dean's career the minute he graduated from the academy, and she could not be more proud of her two sons. They have grown up to be heroes.

She reached out and placed a hand on the side of Sam's face.

Sam gave her a dimpled smile in return, "They'll be fine, mom."

"We'll be fine too."

 **THE END**


End file.
